Broken Borders, page 12
The ex-Green Beret went to the truck and opened her door. “Come on a minute, okay?”
She hopped in, and they drove back across the bridge, and on the other side, he switched seats with her, and she drove them back to the visitors center parking lot.
They got out again and looked at the dam and reservoir.
Answering her question from earlier in the day, he said, “Why destroy one little transformer facility like that, when you can take this puppy out more easily? Captain, you need to call DC on our sat phone and send out the cavalry. Have them call us, and we’ll meet somewhere. Also, find out if the AQ’s are here yet.”
The Mexican-looking members of al Qaeda showed up at the empty warehouse outside Page. The large overhead door opened, and they pulled inside with a small U-Haul moving truck. Ramiro Maureo got out of the passenger side of one of the two black Dodge Ramcharger pickup trucks, and greeted the young men. They showed him the rental papers for the truck. The other jihadists got out of the two trucks and gathered around the steely-eyed leader.
Around them were ten blue plastic fifty-five-gallon drums already mixed together. In each drum was a fifty-fifty mixture of granulated aluminum metal powder and ferric oxide powder, granulated iron. There was also a five-gallon plastic bucket of potassium permanganate. One of the members held a jar of glycerine and a package of Fourth of July sparklers. The buckets were quickly loaded onto the truck and two wooden ramps were loaded into the back of one of the pickups. One man tied a strap through a support in the truck roof and suspended the five-gallon bucket of potassium permanganate, with the lid on, over one of the center barrels. When the time was right, the glycerine would be poured into the center of the bucket and the mixture would eventually ignite, serving as a backup igniter for the giant expedient thermite grenade they were creating. When they pulled into the parking lot of the visitors center, two would place the ramps in front of the cyclone fencing at the edge of the parking lot and overlooking the top of the dam, while two more would light the sparklers and drop them into the center of each barrel. This would ignite the thermite, so it would be burning hot already when the truck jumped off the ramps, crashed through the fence, and spilled its deadly fiery contents onto and down through the mighty dam. Just in case, the potassium permanganate and glycerine would be mixed before getting there and would already be starting to burn and ready to drop into the center barrel.
Imaad Udeen, leader of this cell, handed a large packet of money to Ramiro, and the Brazilian-born outlaw smiled, waved at everyone, and left. He’d gotten them across the border, helped them buy materials, and gotten them here. What they did now was not his concern. He was headed back to San Antonio.
Imaad looked at the assembled followers and said, “Li-natruk hunaa. Anaa jaa’I. Aturiid an ta’kula shay-an?”
Everyone nodded enthusiastically. They all wanted to get out of there and go eat. They were all hungry, too, but more importantly, they wanted to eat, then return to the hotel, place their prayer mats facing Mecca, and deal with their potential individual journeys to Paradise that night.
Because the terrorists had purchased the powder from the chemical company in Salt Lake City, they were now followed by two cars at a distance.
Ramsey Keats was the FBI ASAC for this area, and three other agents were with him. Instead of reporting in, they wanted to follow and see where these men were going.
They kept their distance and switched trails according to FBI SOP (standard operating procedure).
The phony illegals could have created the iron oxide by burning steel wool in tubes, but that would have been too much work. They also could have ground aluminum bars, but again it was way too much work. Ramiro Maureo had told them not to buy all the chemicals from the same place, but they were impatient and did not listen. He did not really care, because he knew they would get caught. He just wanted to make money, lots of it, and gain power.
He knew they wanted to destroy the Glen Canyon Dam and create a major incident. But by the time it happened, he would be in San Antonio reporting about his latest success.
Ramsey Keats got a call from Washington wanting to know if they had the terrorists in town and under surveillance. Reluctantly, he explained that they were all sitting in a Denny’s eating, while he and another car with two agents were parked in sight of the Denny’s. At this point, he got his rear end chewed up one side and back down the other and was given Bobby’s sat phone number, as well as his cell number and Bo’s, and told to contact him immediately and cooperate fully.
Ramsey called Bobby on the sat phone, introduced himself, and briefed him on the situation.
Bobby said, “I need you to stay on top of them, but do you have any locals you can trust?”
Ramsey said, “There are three Navajo Tribal Police I have worked with and respect. One is white, married to a Navajo and totally gung ho. The other two are Navajo and just solid cops. There is a very outstanding Arizona Department of Public Safety trooper.”
Bobby said, “Huh?”
And the agent laughed, explaining, “Sorry. That is what Arizona says. They don’t say Highway Patrol. Anyway, he is a great cop that should not just be writing tickets and measuring skid marks. I like two of the locals here, too.”
Bobby said, “I’m in the Wal-Mart parking lot right now, meeting some people, and then we will be in the rocks up above and directly across from Glen Canyon Dam Visitors Center parking lot. I need your other guys to come out there to meet me and set up a stakeout. They will hit tonight.”
“How do you know that?”
Bobby said, “Hot intel.”
He went on. “You know the area. I’ll let you take charge of setting up blocking forces on the road outside the parking lot, and staging the other men where they will not be spotted but can move in ASAP. These guys will move fast, and we need to move faster. You need to have a full fire crew and trucks standing by and ready.”
“Fire trucks?” Ramsey asked.
Bobby said, “No time to explain. When you can, call me and all the others with vehicle descriptions and license numbers. Ramsey, one last thing.”
“What’s that?” the fed asked.
“Tell everybody that these guys are dressed like Mexicans, but are of the same mindset as those who attacked us on 9/11,” Bobby said, “They will let themselves be killed to take out any of us. And if you are cuffing them, any of them can be wearing suicide belts. They are jihadists.”
Ramsey felt a chill and said, “Thanks, I lost a first cousin in Tower One. All they have to do is blink.”
After they hung up, Bobby jumped out of his car and joined Bo at the back of a blue van at the edge of the Wal-Mart parking lot on South Lake Powell Boulevard. Between Target and Wal-Mart, Bobby and Bo had bought themselves clothing, toiletries, and even small suitcases. Now, they were meeting with two senior NCOs and one officer from the 19th Special Forces Group National Guard unit. They picked out weapons and loaded them and ammunition into their rental car. The National Guard personnel had received orders from DA (Department of the Army) to give Bobby and Bo any weapons or assistance they wanted.
The master sergeant set two boxes of ammo in the back of the SUV and said, “Damn, sir. You starting a war?”
Before Bobby could answer, Bo did. “We sure hope so, Top.”
He chuckled and looked at Bobby, saying, “Didn’t know they started lettin’ women into SF, Major.”
Bo felt complimented again.
Bobby said, “If they did, Captain Devore would be the first one in line.”
Now Bo was beaming.
When the van was loaded, all shook hands, and Bo signed for all the weapons, ammo, and equipment they got. Two customers driving into Wal-Mart’s parking lot gave each other funny looks when they saw three guys in civilian clothes salute a man and woman in civvies, and the two return the salutes, then all get in their cars.
The husband said, “Probably VFW guys or somethin’.”
Bobby and Bo immediately drove to their hotel, and both took quick showers and put on the black T-shirts and black jeans they’d bought at Wal-Mart. The army cops got adjoining rooms and opened the door between them. Bobby loaded weapons and set up their tactical vests, while Bo made them sandwiches from the groceries they bought. She also tossed him snack bars and small Gatorades to put in pockets of the vests.
Bobby called Ramsey, and was told the terrorists had left the restaurant and all gone to their hotel.
Bobby got off the phone and gave Bo a report. Then he called Washington and told them.
General Perry had come into the CP, and spoke to Bobby. “Bobby, you were SF. Whatever you do, they cannot destroy that dam.”
Bobby said, “Roger that, sir. We have it covered.”
“Why did they go back to their hotel?” Bo wondered aloud.
“Same thing we are doing,” Bobby offered. “Getting prepared.”
Bobby and Bo took off for the dam.
The other cops were there at the parking lot of the visitors center, and Bobby and Bo got out and introduced themselves.
Bobby said, “We will be up on those rocks right across from the visitors center. If I can get help from a couple of you, I need to move our equipment up there and then have one of you take our car with you and hide it.”
The highway patrol trooper started chuckling when he unloaded a really, really big gun.
He said, “Barrett .50-caliber rifle?”
Bobby said, “Yes, sir. You guys and the FBI are going to try arresting and cuffing these guys, but I am making sure they do not run their truck through that fence and onto the dam, in case they try, which they will.”
They all grabbed gear and climbed up into the rocks, with Bobby selecting a spot a little to the left, so he could get an angle on a driver trying to crash through the fence.
The terrorists had all prayed and checked out of the hotel, Ramsey reported, and were loading their vehicles.
Bobby said, “The bad guys are getting ready to make their move. Listen, we have to obey the laws as far as first attempting arrest, but I am telling you, these guys will fight to the death, and we have to watch for suicide vests.”
One of the Navajo Tribal Police officers said, “If it’s okay, I am going to stay and hide behind the visitors center, so I can get here quicker.”
Bobby said, “It would be better if you had a partner to cover your back.”
The white Navajo tribal cop said, “I’ll stay with you, Bro.”
The third said he would man a cruiser for them and would pull in when they were ready for the bust.
Everyone shook hands, they all wished each other luck, and dispersed. One of the cops drove Bobby and Bo’s rental. The two C.I.D. officers went up into the rocks, and they equipped themselves. Bobby wedged the bipod legs of the Barrett under rocks and sighted through the scope.
The U.S. Army has adopted the M82A1, the Barrett fifty-caliber, as their special-purpose long-range sniper rifle. The official designation for the rifle is XM107 Long Range Sniper Rifle. It has a maximum effective range of 1500 meters or 1640 yards. Bobby could shoot pop cans with it from over a mile, so hitting a terrorist from their position, a couple hundred yards max, would not be a problem. Bobby’s weapon had a ten-round box magazine and weighed thirty-two pounds. But as far as portability goes, it was way too heavy for most snipers.
Bo also had an M24 Sniper’s Weapon System (SWS), the U.S. Army’s bolt-action sniper rifle similar to the U.S. Marine Corps C M40A1 sniper rifle. The M24 uses the Remington 700 action, although the receiver is a long-action made for adaptation to take the .300 Winchester Magnum round. The stock was made of a composite of Kevlar, graphite, and fiberglass, and had an aluminum bedding block and adjustable butt plate.
It was set up to fire 7.62 × 51-millimeter NATO ammunition, adaptable to .308-caliber Winchester with a five-round built-in magazine. Bo was using a 10x42 Leupold Ultra M3A telescope sight with Mil-Dots. With this weapon she could fire with accuracy all the way out to 875 yards.
Many in the know consider the M24SWS the world’s very best sniper weapon. It didn’t have the power of Bobby’s, but it certainly had the portability and weight that made it more feasible to carry.
Bobby and Bo had extra magazines for their Glock 17s, and both carried M4 rifles as well, to grab and run to the vehicles with when the arrests went down or if they had to give chase. They both got Gatorades out, and they started eating their sandwiches. As soon as they finished eating, Bobby’s sat phone rang. It was Ramsey. The terrorists had gone to the storage facility and gotten their other vehicles and were now on their way. He gave the license numbers and descriptions and told Bobby he would inform the others. He and the other FBI vehicle were leapfrogging, so they would not be noticed, and the bogies were getting close to the Glen Canyon Dam.
Bobby and Bo’s plan was to let the terrorists make the parking lot and actually start the operation, so a good case could be built to nail them for terrorist activities. To that end, Bo also had a digital video camera set up on a sandbag on a rock to catch the whole scene. When the suspects’ vehicles first appeared, Bo would simply turn it on. She just had to place it far enough away from the Barrett that the concussion from the muzzle blast would not knock it out of focus or off target.
Bobby and Bo took notice when the first black pickup pulled into the visitors center parking lot.
Both of them looked through the lens of the big sniper rifle and the standard one, and eased the safeties off. Two men jumped from one pickup and ran to the rear of the truck, pulling out two handmade ramps. They held a length of yellow nylon rope between the two ramps, spacing them, and set them up three feet from the cyclone fence bordering the parking lot.
Two more jumped out of the other truck and opened the sliding back door of the rental truck. They immediately pulled out sparklers and started placing them in the barrels. One was going to light them. Bobby aimed, not at them, but at an angle that would send the bullet into the driver’s compartment of the truck. By preagreement, Bo aimed at them.
The officers, on a radio signal from Ramsey, converged, flying into the parking lot, sirens blaring, lights flashing. The two Navajo tribal officers ran out from behind the visitors center, one on each side.
The one in the cruiser had his cruiser’s loudspeaker on and said, “You are all under arrest. Lay facedown on the ground, hands spread—”
Rat-a-rat-a-rat-a-rat-a-rat-a!!!!!! Brackkkkkkkkkkkkkk kkk! Boom! Boom! Boom!
Imaad Udeen emerged from one truck and started screaming directions in Arabic, and Bobby switched the sights to him, but immediately aimed back at the truck. He was dying to shoot the leader, but knew that he had to eliminate the threat of the truck going through that fence. He saw a puff of smoke as the driver put it into gear. Bobby fired one shot and the shot slammed through the truck, the driver’s torso, the dashboard, the firewall, the upper manifold, radiator, and grille, and across Lake Powell, where the round buried itself in a cliff face. The truck, dead driver slumped over the wheel, started rolling forward, and Bobby again switched to the right front tire, shot it out, while Bo shot out the right rear and left rear, and finally Bobby slammed two quick rounds into the engine block from behind. The truck died before it hit the ramp.
Suddenly, Bobby realized there were muzzle flashes from automatic weapons pointed at him. Cracking sounds whizzed past his ears, and Bo’s; then they both heard many whump, whump, whump sounds. Bobby’s left leg stuck out to the left and something slammed into that sending him forward onto his face. Bo immediately jumped up and with bullets kicking up rock ricochets all around her, she fired, and a shooter with an Uzi submachine gun collapsed, his head a bloody mass. The one next to him, with a folding-stock AK-47, fell backward, blood and brain matter exploding through the back of his head. The others ran for cover, but the FBI and other cops chewed them up.
Bobby saw his bloody leg and ignored the pain. He looked for the leader again, who was running toward the man with the sparklers, who Bo had turned into a martyr. Bobby fired and blew the man’s left leg off.
Bobby yelled, “Tourniquet him and keep him alive! We need intel!”
Bo said, “Bobby, bandage your leg, now!”
It was not a request, and Bobby complied. He pulled out his army pressure bandage and applied it right away.
Bo jumped up, saying, “Can you hang?”
Bobby yelled, “Go!”
Bo had grabbed her M4 and ran down to the site, while Bobby fought to stay alert. He now grabbed the video camera and focused on the scene, doing close-ups and pullouts as the officers converged. The white Navajo tribal police officer was on the ground unmoving, and Ramsey’s partner had a crease along the bicep. Their vehicles were shot to doll rags. Distant sirens could be heard, and a helicopter was approaching.
Suddenly, a terrorist appeared, jumping out the back door of the truck, and ran toward the officers.
Bobby could even hear him yelling “Allah Akbar.”
He looked through the Barrett and placed the dot center-mass and fired. The man’s chest was torn out through his back and his body flung backward against the truck. He slumped forward onto the blacktop and his blood made a giant red O on the side of the truck. Bobby grabbed the video and focused and zoomed in on the big red O and then the body.
Bo turned and waved at Bobby, and all the others followed suit. The legs went out from under one of the cops, as he sat down in place cross-legged. Looking through the scope, Bobby saw that Bo had blood along her left hip. She had been shot.
Dead terrorists littered the parking lot of the Glen Canyon Dam’s visitors center.
Bobby stood and limped down to the scene using Bo’s weapon as a crutch. He carried an army pressure bandage in his hand. He immediately grabbed Bo and yanked out his Gerber knife and cut down through her jeans along her hip. Adrenaline winding down, she screamed in pain as Bobby placed the bandage on her hip. The bullet had torn along the hip and apparently chipped or severely bruised her hip bone.
